Gypsy Boy on the Run by Mikey Walsh (Thomas Dunne 2014) $25; 306 pp.
Work stinks. And home isn’t much better. Deadlines, dirty dishes, nasty clients, empty bank account — any wonder why you’re so crabby? What you really need is to get away, which is why Mikey Walsh did. But as he explains in this memoir, his stakes were higher: He had to escape certain death.
Growing up in Europe’s Romany culture in the 1980s was wonderfully idyllic — for awhile. As a young boy, Walsh played with his sister, danced to his mother’s favorite music, made mischief with cousins and loved to dress up. But as the youngest in a line of Gypsy fighters, his father started “training” him early to use his fists. That meant daily beatings (sometimes more) until Walsh was a teen.
By then, he realized he was gay and he knew his father would kill him if he found out. With the help of Caleb, a man he’d fallen in love with, 15-year-old Walsh disappeared in the middle of the night. But his father wasn’t going to let him go easily.
Walsh finally found safety in a town where he hoped his father wouldn’t look. Walsh found a job, but he lost Caleb to the pressure of constant threats.
Though proud of his Gypsy heritage, his way of speaking became more “Gorgia.” He made friends and learned to embrace his sexuality. He’d stopped living with paralyzing fear, learned to read, enrolled in acting classes … and began to forgive his father.
At the end of last year’s Gypsy Boy — which I absolutely loved — Walsh teased his readers by letting it slip that there was much more to his story. He didn’t elaborate, and I wondered if he could deliver on that delicious tantalization. I shouldn’t have doubted.
Beginning with a brief recap that also serves as a summary for those who missed the first book, Walsh wastes little time before pulling readers into a terror-filled account of being a half-step ahead of his father’s fists, and yet he manages to keep a sense of humor. He presents his story with no poor-me tone; the lack of whining is oh-so-refreshing.
This memoir contains some repetition, but that minor annoyance is overpowered by a tale every bit as stellar as its predecessor.
— Terri Schlichenmeyer
This article appeared in the Dallas Voice print edition August 8, 2014.